The Untold story of Obito Manor
by PwnMaster1999
Summary: First things first, I lied about the category. This story is what I wrote for an English assessment in class, and my teacher suggested I do something good with it, so here I am.


It all started on a grey-skied evening, I think it was Tuesday. I was on my way home from work at the station. There had been another murder at that God-forsaken house. Óbito Manor had been victim to many murders over the past four months. I sighed as I tugged my scarf higher around my neck, shivering at the cold touch of my gloves brushing against my neck. My feet crunched in the snow as I trudged, sniffling, down the narrow footpath along the edge of Óbito Manor.

Again I sighed as my thoughts drifted back to the family residing in that house, and the deaths that had taken place in areas of the Manor. Mr Thorn, his wife Amanda and young son Loki, were all near-witnesses and were hit hard by the deaths of their staff. Well, I say they were_ all _hit hard, but the boy didn't seem to show much emotion. I think he was mute.

Continuing along the walkway I coughed, then paused. The deaths of the staff puzzled me, the memories of the crime scenes lingered in my head, unable to disappear.

* * *

The first death was that of an elder maid, Nancy. She was found in the kitchen, near the freezer in the back room. She laid still on the cool tiled floor, blood pooled around the butcher knife impaled in her skull, clouded brown eyes wide with shock.

* * *

The second death was that of a middle aged repairman, Marcus. He was discovered at noon by Mr Thorn, face and skull crushed beneath the large grand piano. Blood was splattered around the corner of the room, partly dried and sunk into the carpet. It was a real mystery, no fingerprints, footprints or any sign of the killer. The press were starting to get curious, attempting to bribe the other staff or investigators for classified information.

My mind jolting back to reality, I re-opened my half-lidded eyes and coughed again, my breath clearly visible in the cold December air.

* * *

I continued along the narrow path, my thoughts still shifting back to the horrors I had witnessed. I shuddered at the memories nested in my mind.

They would not leave.

* * *

As I slowly walked I thought back to the most recent deaths. The third was Mr Thorn's colleague and good friend, Algernon. Mr Thorn had entered the garden and found his friend dead in the grass next to the lit barbeque grill.

Algernon's face was victim to major third-degree burns, his skin red and peeling off of his skull. Soft flesh and muscle poked out of deeper burns, mostly located near the eye sockets and mouth.

* * *

I gagged at the thought. I paused to take a few breaths before continuing my walk.

The fourth and final death was that of the butler, Leonard.

Leonard was instructed to switch on the Christmas lights as the rest of the household and I sat at the table for Christmas dinner. We all sat there, conversing with minor chatter as he made his way to the switch outside.

After ten minutes I thought something wasn't right. I excused myself and headed outside.

What I saw still haunts me in my dreams.

He was laid straight on the icy pathway, the snow around his head stained red with the blood pouring from his eye sockets, both impaled with large, shining icicles.

* * *

I was torn away from my thoughts by a rustle in the bushes next to me. I neared the bush, and discreetly peered inside.

"Caw!", came the shrill cry of a crow as it burst from the bushes and took to the sky, soaring far into the night.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. A crow? But then I realised something. Something that one of my colleagues had mentioned. A crow had been spotted at the scene of each death. As I allowed my mid to delve deeper into the mystery, I froze.

* * *

The Thorn's six year old son Loki had been silently observing the corpses being taken away from the Manor with slight interest. Every crime scene, just like the crow. Always silently watching in the background.

Then it hit me.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my mobile phone. Just as I was about to start dialling the number for my co-worker, Detective Phillips, I was stopped by a sharp pain in my side, and a warm liquid staining my shirt.

I turned my head to the side, and was welcomed with the same sharp pain, this time in my stomach. I coughed to cover up the agony I was feeling. I gasped in intense pain as my chest stung and the blood flowed.

I watched, coughing up blood from my pierced lung. I watched as he silently withdrew the knife, not uttering a single word. He cleaned his blade in the snow, returning it to his pocket.

The crow from before had perched in the tree not three meters away, cawing and hopping along the branch, its beady black eyes staring deep into my soul.

I returned my gaze to my attacker, coughing as blood dripped from my lips, poured from my chest and trickled from my side.

Loki gazed down at me, expressionless face spattered with droplets of blood as the crow swooped down and perched on his shoulder, cawing at me before nuzzling the boy's face.

My vision blurring, I collapsed to the ground, by blood staining the snow. Loki continued to gaze at me. He didn't try to finish me off.

He let me suffer.

* * *

And as I felt my vision fading and my life flowing away, Loki silently turned on his heel and returned to the grounds of the Manor, never looking back.

And that is how I, Detective William Rayford, was killed.

~_Detective Rayford_


End file.
